


In Bloom

by bioloyg



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Angst, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Florist Sam, Fluff, M/M, Nonbinary Sam, OFC - A BABY, Other, Persephone!Sam/Hades!Bucky, Pining, Sam Wilson-centric, Winter Falcon, gender isn't real, giant nerd Bucky, her name is Cora please enjoy, it goes back and forth but this story is undoubtedly about Sam, talking flowers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9612944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioloyg/pseuds/bioloyg
Summary: "Bucky’s skin tingles all over as he passes through the portal to Earth, both from travel and anxiety. It takes him five minutes to work his way up to entering Sam’s shop alone. He’s not sure why he dreads it so much, because it’s always so welcoming whenever he comes in. It might have something to do with the way something in his chest unfurls whenever Sam looks at him though…"~In Bloom is a mythos AU wherein Bucky is Hades, a shy nerd, and Sam is Persephone, a lovely nonbinary florist. It's also an AU about falling in love.





	1. Daisy Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who follow me on tumblr, you know exactly what this is. For those of you who don't, this is something I've really grown to love writing and I've had a lot of fun with it so I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Expect a few changes in rating and tags as the story progresses.
> 
> Unbeta'd

They’ve got earthy brown skin, eyes like the night sky itself, and this _light_ about them that makes them glow. Bucky has heard their voice on a few separate occasions, and every time he does it feels as if the heavens themselves part. Everything they touch positively blooms, and anyone they speak to leaves a better person than they already were, just from being in their presence.

Bucky is head over heels in love. Well, maybe not in love. You can’t fully love someone you don’t know a thing about, and looks can be deceiving, but Bucky can tell this one is different. Magical even.

Every few millennia Olympians are reborn in a new vessel – someone worthy of their title and power. Bucky knows without a doubt that he has found the embodiment of Persephone, deity of Spring and growth. The very opposite of Bucky, who is the embodiment of Hades, ruler of the dead and the underworld itself. He wishes he were someone worthy of this Persephone’s time, someone that didn’t kill almost everything he touches. But he isn’t.

Bucky looks down at his left hand, a skeletal version of his right and reminder of everything that he is. He realizes the job he has is an important one, that he keeps balance in the world. He just wishes someone else got picked for it. With a sigh, he pushes himself off of the building he was resting against and dissipates when he reaches the nearest portal.

All he can think about as he descends to his place of resting is the golden person in their garden shop and how beautiful of a presence they are. He supposes that’s exactly what Persephone is supposed to be like by nature, but there’s something about _this one_ that the previous Persephone had nothing on. Something breathtaking.

Bucky shakes his head to clear away the stray thoughts and is greeted by his loyal companion Cerberus. He calls them Spot every once in a while. There’s something oddly comical about calling his three-headed nightmare of a canine something so… dorky. Cerberus doesn’t think it’s as funny, and they show Bucky as much by ignoring him. He supposes he deserves that.

Once Bucky has greeted his host of pets, both living and dead, he passes through the Asphodel Meadows. The shades inhabiting the area bow their heads before sinking to their knees completely, not in worship but out of respect. Bucky hates it. He finds nothing he does to be worthy of such a singular respect, but as Hades he understands where it comes from. The mantle of an Olympian.

As always, Bucky prompts them to rise with a terse nod of his head, and he keeps going. He only stops to pick one of the flowers. As he passes through each realm of his domain, he toys with the many petals of the asphodel. It’s one of the few kinds of flowers that doesn’t die when he touches it with his skeletal hand, something that _almost_ makes him feel normal. Something that makes him feel like he could speak to the wonderful owner of that garden.

Later, as Bucky stares up at the unending darkness that serves as his ceiling, he wonders what it would be like to speak to this new Persephone. Wonders if being in their presence would breathe life into him the way he thinks it would.

He closes his eyes and smiles at the thought, and what a nice one it is.

~

Sam looks down at the lily bud between their middle and forefinger and then kisses it lovingly. “There’s a very nice woman who’s coming to pick you up today, and I know she’d absolutely love it if you introduced yourself.”

Just like that the lily opens, displaying its beautiful toasty orange petals. Sam smiles and gently strokes one of its leaves. “There, that wasn’t so scary, was it?”

Before they can tune into the plant’s rhythms for an answer, the bell above the front door rings, signaling someone’s entrance. Whoever it is, Sam can feel the presence down to their very core. It’s not menacing per se, but it is definitely powerful. Something certain and immovable. At the same time, it’s completely and utterly peaceful, like silk. It’s perplexing to say the least, and the man it’s attached to is no less confusing.

He’s got long brown hair that’s pulled back into a braid of sorts, and what wisps of it that have escaped frame his pale face. He looks like a ghost, or someone in dangerous need of chicken soup. All of his features are sharp and commanding, which belies the almost skittish vibes he’s putting off. As he moves through the shop he’s incredibly careful not to touch a single thing, like he’s afraid, and suddenly something within Sam clicks.

The thick and cloying aura, the blunt features and pale skin, the pressed black clothing that covers him from head to toe. _This_ is the famed Hades, or the latest embodiment of him at least. Sam lets their hand fall from where it was pressed against the lily and they tune into the whispers of their plants.

 _The unseen one_ , they gasp. _Receiver of many_ , others say. Some of the plants lean toward him. The asphodel, nightshade, and aconite. Those seem to be the most reverent, singing their praises about _the giver of good council_. The others, like sunflowers and daffodils, are a little more flippant, calling him _the one of many names_. Sam chuckles. Their daffodils always were a little on the judgmental side. A product of how Sam tends to the flowers, they suppose. Their personality can bleed through at times.

Sam presses their lips together to hold in a laugh when the lily next to them turns away altogether. Mistrustful it would seem. Sam shakes their head fondly and tucks a finger under one of the petals, as if holding someone’s chin, and says, “Now, now. Don’t be rude to guests that haven’t been rude to you.”

The lily wilts, as if pouting, and Sam makes a face at it. “Stop it.”

 _Fine_ , it seems to say, blooming obnoxiously. The buds on the next stem bloom too. Sam takes a moment to wonder how they raised such bratty children, but before they can make it through their entire thought, Hades appears before them. Sam wonders what his actual name is, or if he can even tell who they are.

“Hello,” the rather awkward ruler of the underworld says. Sam always thought he’d be more imposing. Maybe he is and he’s just trying to be polite. The lily beside Sam doesn’t seem to have a grasp on that concept yet, so Sam drags it closer, lest anyone notice the way it’s leaning as far from Hades as possible.

“Hi,” Sam answers. “What can I help you with today? A bouquet or a personal plant?”

The man laughs, and there’s a touch of bitterness to it. “Definitely not a personal plant. I have a tendency to kill everything I touch.” He looks down at the lily in Sam’s hands, presumably because of the way it’s currently wrapping itself around Sam’s arms.

Sam shoots it a pointed look and the lily immediately recedes, sensing Sam’s displeasure. When Sam looks back up, they say, “Plants. They have a mind of their own sometimes.”

“I have a feeling that’s something that happens to you pretty often.”

Sam twists their lips to one side. “What makes you say that?”

“You,” he says, serious as can be. “And the fact that humans can’t communicate with plants, but that’s just a guess.”

“So you do know who I am,” Sam says with a small laugh.

“Sort of. I don’t know your actual name though.”

“Sam.”

The man beams, and the feeling he exudes turns from something fixed to something malleable. Warm even. He holds out a hand, but he must think better of it because he tucks it back into his pocket before Sam can take it. After clearing his throat, he says. “Bucky.”

“Bucky…” Sam repeats slowly. Somehow they pictured something different. They tilt their head and squint as if that’ll make something clear. It doesn’t.

Bucky’s cheeks turn pink. “James is my given name. Bucky is –”

“Nice,” Sam interrupts, putting him out of his misery. “It’s not bad, I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“It’s the hair isn’t it?”

Sam rolls their eyes and tries not to laugh. “Yeah it’s definitely the hair, not the fact that you’re the ruler of the dead or anything.”

Bucky’s lips thin and he shrugs.

“So,” Sam says, picking up the awkward silence. “What was it that you came in for? I have a hard time thinking it was for little ol’ me.”

Bucky looks down as if embarrassed, and his aura is right back to being vast and unreadable. “A bouquet. I’m visiting a friend.”

Sam steps from behind the counter and holds a hand out, toward the arrangements. “I’ve got just the thing. Follow me.”

~

“You’ve got it bad,” Natasha says from her perch. Her body ripples and becomes three before joining into one again. The Fates. She casually threads a golden string between her fingers to play cat’s cradle.

Bucky shoots her a look. “You should be more careful with those strings.”

“What, this old thing?” She pulls it taught and it rings, echoing throughout the halls. It burns bright white within her grasp. “This one isn’t going anywhere. You know that.”

“Put Steve’s string back, Nat.”

She pouts and lets the string slip from between her spider-like fingers. “You’re no fun.” Her body fades at the edges and Clotho, one of her three forms, appears. The spinner of threads; a blonde version of Natasha. Clotho takes the thread from Nat and disappears just as quickly as she appeared.

With that, Nat sits up and slips from her place above. “Now, back to what we were discussing.”

“We weren’t discussing _anything_. You were prying,” Bucky reminds her as he looks up from the swirling orb in front of him. He waves his hand over it and the image goes dark.

Nat smiles placidly. “Is it really prying if it’s written all over your face?”

“Yes,” Bucky huffs impatiently.

“Alright, then I’m prying. The point remains, you’ve got it **_bad_**.” Nat slowly walks her way over and taps the top of the orb that sits before Bucky. When it lights up again she laughs. “You can’t tell me you don’t because you’re even using your portals to make sure he’s okay.”

“ _They_ ,” Bucky corrects. “And they don’t need my protection. Sam is terrifying in their own right.”

Natasha folds one arm across her chest, rests her other elbow on top of it, and holds her chin. “And just what makes them terrifying?”

“They control life,” Bucky says, looking up from the image of Sam’s storefront. “Wouldn’t you be careful around someone who could bend it to their will?”

She raises an eyebrow. “ _I_ control life.”

“You control its length,” Bucky retorts. “Sam controls how fulfilling it is.”

Natasha opens her mouth and then closes it. She opens it again with a sigh and says, “Fine. Point made. If you’re not using your portals to make sure they’re okay, then what are you doing?”

“Thinking,” Bucky replies, vague as ever.

Nat shoots him a look. “Bucky, just ask them out already. You’ve gone there for flowers almost every other day for the past _month_.”

He looks up with a frown and shoos the images on the orb again. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“They deserve better.”

“Oh my god,” Nat groans. “You’re an idiot.”

Bucky stands and brushes the dust from his jacket. “Good _bye_ , Natasha,” he says pointedly as he exits. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you later,  _lover boy_ ,” she singsongs.


	2. Grapevine Whispers

Bucky’s skin tingles all over as he passes through the portal to Earth, both from travel and anxiety. It takes him five minutes to work his way up to entering Sam’s shop alone. He’s not sure why he dreads it so much, because it’s always so welcoming whenever he comes in. It might have something to do with the way something in his chest unfurls whenever Sam looks at him though…

As Bucky enters, the foxglove by the door bloom and one of the many ravens in the store lands on his shoulder. This one is _very_ intelligent, mischievous even. Bucky is pretty sure her name is Clementine, either that or she really loves clementines. All the same, she pecks at anyone caught picking the petals off Sam’s flowers. She’s quite the watchdog – er, _bird_.

Bucky kisses her beak when she buts his head with hers. Satisfied, she leaves her spot on his shoulder and hides in the rafters again. Bucky smiles and keeps walking about the edges of the garden. The flowers are a lot more kind to him today than they have been previously. He doesn’t blame them for being suspicious, he _is_ the keeper of the dead after all. Still, it’s nice to have won their favor. Or most of it, at least. The daffodils still won’t look at him, but he’s fine with that. The delphiniums pay him enough attention.

He strokes one of the delphinium flowers with the back of his forefinger and tries not to smile when the petals grasp at his finger. It leans in the farther he moves away, so he waves goodbye as he makes his way to the front desk, lest it leap right out of its pot.

 Up front, Sam is deep in thought staring at one of their plants. It’s a rose bush of some sort and it looks as if Sam is pruning it, or rather, they’re _trying_.

“Will you sit _still_ , it’s just a trim. The chrysanthemums will still think you’re beautiful afterwards.” Sam lets out a short huff and frowns. “You’re acting like a real rosebud right now.”

Bucky laughs, startling Sam. The smile that breaks across their face as they look up makes Bucky’s heart stop (not that that would matter), and all the buds on the flowers surrounding them burst open. Sam stutters and puts the pruning shears in their hand down. “Hey – Bucky. Didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry to sneak up on you,” he says, apologetic. “I was just stopping by.”

Sam waves their hand. “Nah, it’s no problem. What can I get for you today?”

A couple of thoughts run through Bucky’s mind, but rather than ask Sam on a date he says, “What do you think would be a good flower to give to a good friend, someone you haven’t seen in a while?”

Sam tilts their head slightly. “Depends.” The rose bush in front of them grows sharp, but Sam frowns at it and its thorns recede.

Bucky looks away from the roses that seem to be… scowling at him? He’s not sure because he’s never seen a flower, or anything without a face, scowl at him before. “… It’s someone I knew in a past life and I haven’t visited them in a while.”

The rose bush seems to settle, and Sam pats one of the buds lovingly. “Do you know what kind of flowers they like?”

Bucky nods. “Sweet peas, but they’re a little on the rare side according to her, so she’d hate it if I got her those.”

“She sounds smart.”

“She tells me as much anytime I seem to forget,” Bucky says with a private smile. “I know she likes lavender, as a color I mean, if that’s helpful.”

Sam presses their lips together in thought and then looks down at their rose bush. “I’m gonna go help him, but don’t think for a minute that this is over.” The leaves on the bush rustle, and when Bucky notices Sam’s eyes narrow in return he gets the feeling that was equivalent to a child blowing a raspberry.

Sam rolls their eyes and nods toward the back room. “C’mon, I’ve got a few flowers back here that I think will work.” They look back at Bucky as he trails along and then say, “So who’s this friend of yours?”

Bucky lets out an amused huff. “Friend may have been a little misleading.”

“Oh?” Sam says, and the flowers around them all turn.

Bucky’s brow furrows and he says, “Uh – yeah, yeah she’s my sister. Or she _was_.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t be. She hasn’t exactly gone anywhere that I can’t visit.”

“Still,” Sam says. “Visiting with a shade isn’t the same as enjoying the company of your friends above ground.”

Sam offers Bucky a gentle smile and says, “It’s good that you visit,” but there’s something sad in their voice.

Bucky hums, studying Sam’s face. It’s something that’s guarded. He doesn’t press the issue – he doesn’t even know if there _is_ one. “She’d never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t.”

Sam’s smile widens. “What’s her name?”

“Rebecca.”

~

The rose bushes are still fussing after Bucky leaves, much to Sam’s dismay. All Sam wants to do is remove the dead buds and leaves. There’s nothing particularly awful about that – in fact, they’re doing the roses a _favor_. But **_nooo_** , they’re too concerned with how the chrysanthemums will feel about them. Sam has half the mind to tell them the chrysanthemums don’t date flowers who are _childish_. The only reason they don’t is because they know how much their roses love them, as evidenced by that overreaction earlier. Sam tuts as they clip another dead branch and says, “You can’t be acting up whenever he brings up plans with people other than _me_ y’know.”

 Seemingly out of nowhere, a smooth voice says, “Uh oh.” The flowers in Sam’s immediate vicinity turn toward it, some leaning in desperately.

Sam lets out an amused huff and closes their eyes. “What is it now, Misty?”

She saunters up beside Sam and kisses them on the cheek; it makes their skin tingle. Misty leans on the counter beside them as they snip at the rose bush and say, “I know that look.”

“What look?” Sam asks with a sigh. They’re playing dumb, which won’t work, but they figure if they do it long enough Misty won’t dig.

No such luck.

“The one that makes all your flowers bloom like _that_.” She points at the flowers nearest Sam and then shoots them a look. “Pansies aren’t even in season right now, and I would know.”

Sam laughs. She would know because she _is_ the seasons. More specifically the Horae, goddesses of the seasons and justice wrapped up in the package that is _Misty_. She toys with one of her curls and lets it spring back into place. “So, wanna explain who’s got you _and_ the flowers blushing?”

“Maybe I’m just in a good mood,” Sam says plainly. The rose bush before them makes a snide comment about how _good_ of a mood it is and Sam flicks one of the leaves in response.

Misty smirks. “That’s not what the roses are saying.”

“Yeah, well, the cabbage roses were always bad at _minding their own business_.”

The rose buds closest to Sam’s hands shrink inward and rustle their leaves again – arguing. Misty holds a hand out and strokes the leaves. “They’re gone on Hades aren’t they?” Misty asks the roses.

A smug aura rolls off of the rose bush and Sam says, “See if I tell the chrysanthemums how you feel _now_.”

Misty laughs. “Oh don’t take it out on them. It’s okay if you have a crush.”

Sam rolls their eyes. “Crushes are for humans. I’m over three centuries old and I can control plants, I think crushes are a little beneath me, don’t you?”

“So what else would you call that little display when he walked in earlier?”

“What display?” Sam asks as they scrunch their nose.

Misty pushes herself off the counter and then walks around Sam. She shrugs and says, “Just the one where you accidentally caused half your flowers to bloom when you saw him. You like him, don’t you?”

Sam tries not to smile. She’s got them there. Still, they play it off. “I might be interested.”

“Interested,” she repeats, mirth laced into the word. “Well, you better do something about it.”

Sam puts their pruning shears down again and rests their hands on the countertop. “Like _what_?”

Misty turns back to them with a deadpan look. “Ask him out. What else?”

Sam frowns and looks back toward the front door. “I’m waiting.”

“For what? Wait too long and you’ll miss your chance.” She pets the broad leaves of one of the hanging plants. “I know plenty of deities that’d go for that dark and mysterious aura.”

Misty looks Sam up and down with a catty grin. “It’s working for you ain’t it?”

Sam sighs. “Drop it. Even if I did have feelings for him, that doesn’t exactly matter if he doesn’t feel the same about me.”

Misty lets out a dry laugh. “You’ve got to be blind to think that boy’s not interested, Sam.” She stands across from them and says, “How often does he visit?”

“I don’t know,” Sam replies, which is a big fat lie.

The rose bush tattles on them, _again_ , shaking its leaves with laughter after the fact. Sam scowls at it, but the effect is minimal. They always misbehave when Misty is around. She’s one of their favorites.

Misty crosses her arms. “The cabbage roses say once a week, and if I heard them correctly, the daffodils said _too much_.”

Sam sends the daffodils an icy look and then says, “Fine. Once a week.”

Misty smiles. “Thought so. My sister said the same.”

Sam groans. “You and the Fates are gonna be the death of me.”

“No, y’all are gonna be the death of _us_.” She sighs. “I’m not saying you have to ask him out, but you could have a conversation with him at the very least.”

“We have plenty of conversations,” Sam says petulantly.

“About things _other_ than flowers.”

Sam frowns again. “What am I supposed to ask him, Misty? How things are going in the underworld? I guarantee the answer is, ‘ _Poorly. Everyone is **dead**_.’”

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Sam huffs. “What will it take to get you to tell me the real reason you dropped by?”

She shrugs one shoulder and looks to the side. “Let me have the trees in Central Park a little early and I’ll forget all about it. Fall is coming early this year. Apollo is going on vacation or some nonsense.”

“Again?”

“I know.”

Sam looks up at the ceiling and says, “Fine, but I want them back by March at the latest.”

“Of course,” she says. “Now, on to business.”

Sam raises their eyebrows, prompting Misty to continue. She lets out a deep breath and her face settles into more serious lines. “Demeter wants to know why you haven’t visited with her in a while.”

Sam groans and rubs their hands over their face. “Not this again.”

“You two _do_ have to coordinate you know. Plant growth and harvest tend to go hand in hand.”

“When she stops bringing up my romantic prospects in the middle of business meetings I’ll go visit,” they say as they pick up their pruning shears again. The roses don’t fuss as much this time.

Misty lets out a sigh. “She is your mother.”

“In theory, not in practice.”

“The point still stands, Sam.” Misty knocks on the table to get Sam to look up. When they do she says, “ _Go_. You don’t have talk to her about anything you don’t want to, but I do need you guys to figure it out since Autumn is coming earlier this year.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Sam mutters. “I’ll visit her this weekend.”

“You’d better,” Misty replies, pointing. “Because she’s been breathing down my neck.”

“What are mom’s for,” Sam says with a quiet laugh.


	3. Lavender Skies

There is no such thing as order without first knowing what disorder is. Everything requires perspective, something to balance it, an opposite or complement. With good comes bad, and Bucky knows that better than anyone. There would be no need for him or his “services” if the world didn’t require maintenance. That’s all he’s here for – balance. Without him souls wander aimlessly in search of a home after death, without him death knows no peace. Bucky just wishes he could find the same peace he gives to the dearly departed, but a life of eternity doesn’t exactly allow for rest. If it did, Bucky wouldn’t be on Mt. Olympus right now.

The Olympians have these meetings periodically, most notably when there are vacancies in the pantheon that need filling. Bucky doesn’t make it a habit to attend. There are certain stigmas attached to his helm, and he doesn’t particularly care for the politics of it all. The only reason he came to this meeting is because both Zeus _and_ Poseidon’s essences have yet to find a suitable human host. Without either of them, Bucky is the leader on Olympus. Hera usually doesn’t bother showing up either, and Bucky doesn’t blame her. Especially not with the way the last Zeus treated her. He imagines she’s off relaxing somewhere, enjoying her reprieve. Demeter is… somewhere. She would be more apt to lead the proceedings, but her lack of interest far surpasses Bucky’s as far as Olympian politics are concerned.

So, Bucky it is. Great.

Bucky supposes it’s not all bad though – especially not when he senses a familiar energy pour into the room. He tries not to turn towards Sam as quickly as he keyed in on their presence. He’s not known for taking interest in any of the lives of his fellow Olympians, so anything above passing curiosity would seem suspicious. Though, Bucky’s not sure what he’s hiding from.

 _Rejection_ , his mind supplies.

With a mental swat of his hand, Bucky focuses on the here and now for once, and he isn’t disappointed in the slightest. Sam glides through the doorway into the summit room, their movement effortless as always. However, this time they’re wearing some sort of ethereal grape colored garb that flows around them actively as if alive. It’s mesmerizing. And that doesn’t even begin to describe the rest of what they’re wearing or how good they make it look.

Bucky knows that when meetings are called, the gods show up in their formal attire – usually something appropriate and related to whatever it is that they govern or embody. Bucky wears all black, just as he does in his off time, but instead of jeans he wears slacks, and instead of sweaters or henleys he wears a button-up and jacket. The only flashy thing he carries with him is his bident. It’s silver, and of course two-pronged, but along the sides there are intricate carvings of their history and the names of all who’ve commanded the underworld before.

But Sam looks far superior to everyone else around them. Even Aphrodite pales in comparison. Aphrodite doesn’t have hair lined with flowers and charms. Aphrodite doesn’t have swirls of gold surrounding them that move as she walks. And she certainly doesn’t have the same otherworldly glow that Sam exudes. No, that’s one of a kind.

Bucky doesn’t realize he’s staring until Hermes, personified by a mid-worlder that was named Clint, says, “I’ve got a special delivery for you. It’s your jaw. Someone said they found it on the floor.”

Bucky turns and glares at him, but Clint is cool as a cucumber. He leans an elbow on his caduceus and smirks. “It’s not polite to stare you know.”

“The next time you guide someone to the underworld I’m telling Cerberus to swallow you whole,” Bucky mutters as he stalks toward his place on the dais of three.

“They would never. I give them treats when you’re not looking,” Clint calls out as Bucky walks away.

Bucky rolls his eyes and sits down in his seat, now positioned at the center with vacancies to either of his sides. It’s slightly unnerving being the only one up here, what with the responsibility of leading the meeting to decide whether Zeus’ latest vessel is acceptable or not. Poseidon’s essence has yet to choose a vessel which is… typical. It’ll be another decade or two before he decides, which is fine because Amphitrite is more than capable of handling the seas on her own.

Once everyone is settled Bucky rises from his seat and knocks his staff against the marble floor. As soon as it makes contact a spark of light shoots out of the top and the lights on the columns around the room dim. He clears his throat. “I’d like to make this quick. We have two house vacancies that need filling. Normally this isn’t an issue, but as you all know those two vacancies are that of Zeus and Poseidon.”

Bucky lifts his head up from where it was tilted downward ever so slightly and finds himself staring right into Sam’s eyes. His mind stutters for a moment, but he moves through the pause gracefully. Or about as gracefully as he ever could. “A new vessel has been chosen.”

Those in Zeus’ court murmur to themselves, some look thrilled and others look mildly put out, as if they were enjoying the reprieve. Bucky guesses those are the deities aligned with Hera. He tucks his smirk away for later and says, “As always, this is not up for debate. Should you be unhappy with this decision, remember that everything is temporary. But until then, I would like to introduce you to our newest king of the gods, Ororo.”

As the white-haired woman materializes on the dais, those of Zeus’ court gasp. “For the first time in many millennia, Zeus has chosen a woman to embody all of his strengths.”

There’s enough chatter and awe that Bucky’s voice goes unheard despite his many attempts to quiet the masses. He’s not surprised that so many of them are opposed to the idea, especially not with the vessels of men from before the modern era, but he _is_ annoyed. When his words go unheard a fourth time Bucky knocks his staff against the marble floor again. The force of it sends the edges of his coat flying outwards and causes the flames on the columns to burst from their containers.

“ ** _Enough_**.” Bucky says, his voice cutting into the new silence. “I will not have you disrespect the court, _Zeus’_ court, on her first day back with us.”

Ororo steps forward then, shoulders back, head held high. Of course, before she can speak, Ares opens his mouth. “How can we expect this –” he looks her up and down with disdain. “ _thing_ to lead us?”

Before Bucky can even think of a reply Ororo looks at him and shakes her head, as if to say, _There’s no need. Let me handle this._

She holds her left hand out, fingers splayed wide, and suddenly Zeus’ scepter appears in her fist. She strikes it against the floor almost immediately and a line of electricity zips into the crowd, catching Ares by his feet. Those around him stand immediately but he’s fixed in place, unable to move.

Ororo takes a deep breath and steps down to the floor. A sea of gods and lesser deities alike part before her until she and Ares are across from one another. Her smooth voice fills the room, echoing almost, as she says, “If you have a problem with me I am more than happy to display my abilities as your new king. What say you, Ares?”

His eyes narrow, but he’s unable to speak so long as the electrical current holds him. Ororo smiles. “Surely as the god of war you’d enjoy a battle of strengths.”

She taps her scepter against the floor again and as soon as she does Ares falls to his knees, weak. Ororo lifts his chin up with the end of the scepter. “I’m more than happy to discuss any complaints you have, whether they be with a member of the court or me personally.” She lifts it even higher and then says, with just enough bite to let everyone close enough know she’s serious, “But I will not tolerate such outbursts when I or my brothers are speaking. Is that clear?”

Ares rips his chin away and mutters, “Yes, _father_.”

Ororo nods peaceably and holds out her hand to help him up, but it goes ignored. Not that it seems to bother her in the slightest. A faint chuckle escapes her, and before long she’s back on the dais, her seat now at the center.

Bucky runs his forefinger and thumb over his brow line and sighs. He looks back out at the crowd and skims over it as he speaks. “The next time we meet, Poseidon will have returned. Until then, this meeting is adjourned. For those of you who wish to stay, there will be a banquet in the next hall in honor of our new king.”

Just like that, the room buzzes with the voices of all those present. Bucky considers leaving and returning home, but he knows better than to leave Ororo to fend for herself. She’s more than capable, he’s sure, but a buffer is always welcome. So, with that Bucky holds out his gloved left hand and leads her into the next room.

~

“Hey stranger,” a cool voice rings out next to Bucky.

He startles slightly, distracted by the music and those dancing at the center of the hall. He looks up and into rich brown eyes smiling at him. “Sam.”

Sam pulls the chair beside Bucky out from underneath the table and sits down. They look even more breathtaking up close. “What are you doing hiding over here all by yourself?”

Bucky smiles and lifts an eyebrow. “Hiding all by myself.”

Sam rolls their eyes and sits back in their chair, crossing their arms as they go. “Obviously. _Why_?”

Placing his glass of wine on the table, Bucky says, “What exactly should I be doing instead?”

“Dancing,” Sam answers, succinct and sure. “Everyone else is.”

Bucky snorts. “With **who**?”

Sam looks at him, their eyes sure and steady like always. Bucky almost forgot how unnerving it is to be under their scrutiny. In the middle of one of Bucky’s thoughts, Sam says, “Me.”

Suddenly Bucky is _very_ glad he set that glass down. He’s also glad he wasn’t in the middle of a sip when Sam said that. “ _You_ want to dance with _me_?”

“Why not?” Sam shrugs. “It’s not like we’re friends or anything. And I’ve _never_ seen you in my store.”

Bucky lets out an amused huff and looks away. “You’re talking to the ruler of the underworld, Sam. I kill almost everything I touch.”

“And I can bring any plant to life. What’s your point?”

The intensity in their eyes is – odd. Odd to Bucky. It’s both magnetic and intimidating. Bucky gets lost in Sam’s gaze for a moment and then says, “Aren’t you worried?”

Sam’s eyebrows furrow. “About what?”

“Touching me.”

Their face loosens at that and they sit up straight. “You can’t hurt me, Bucky. You know that, right?”

“Do you though?” Bucky says, standing. He grabs his glass and takes a sip to stall. “There’s a reason I’ve never shaken your hand.”

“So you would have touched me otherwise?”

Bucky opens his mouth and then shakes his head slightly, caught off guard. He draws in a breath, sharp and quick. “I – not without your permission.”  His eyebrows fall as Sam gets closer.

“Ask me to dance.”

“Excuse me?”

Sam looks up at them and slowly repeats themself. “Ask. Me. To dance.”

Bucky’s forefinger clinks against the glass nervously. “If I hurt you Demeter will kill me.”

“You wont’t.”

“And if I do?”

Sam snorts. “I’m not some delicate flower. Now do you want to dance or not?”

“From what I understand, I’m supposed to be asking you,” Bucky answers with a sarcastic lilt to his voice.

“You better ask sometime this century then, otherwise you’ll be dancing with me in the underworld.”

Bucky tries to hide his smile and fails, miserably. He takes a deep breath and sets his glass back down on the table and then holds out his human hand. “Careful, I’m cold.”

“I’ll warm you up,” Sam says as they take it.

As soon as their hands touch Bucky feels something stir in his core, like he’s been jolted by something. Sam’s hand is smooth and about as warm as Bucky remembers his summer days being when he was alive. It’s comforting, holding their hand, but Bucky panics as Sam draws him in to dance the waltz. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to waltz, it’s that he hasn’t been this close to someone who wasn’t a member of his own court in a very long time.

Sam’s lips twist in amusement. “You afraid I’m gonna figure out you have two left feet?”

Bucky cautiously fits his gloved hand against Sam’s back and shivers when Sam places their hand on his shoulder. “I’m more concerned about the moment you realize people don’t dance with me for a reason.”

“Are you _that_ bad?”

“At dancing? No. With people? Yes.”

They make their first round on the floor, hidden between everyone else, without issue. Sam’s fingers flex against Bucky’s back as they say, “You do just fine with me.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “That’s because you –” He stops and clears his throat before looking away.

Sam lifts their eyebrows. “Because I what?”

“Nothing,” Bucky says. He spins with Sam past Cupid and Psyche and hopes the spiral movement will draw Sam’s attention elsewhere.

It doesn’t. “Because I what?” Sam repeats, softer this time. Their eyes track over Bucky’s face, skipping from place to place before settling on his eyes.

“Because you’re you,” Bucky finally answers, quiet as a mouse. He twirls Sam once more as the song ends, and just as the final note rings Sam is back in his arms, closer this time. Every bit of Bucky feels like it’s on fire. Here Sam is, in his arms, and he still can’t find the courage to ask Sam out. However, the way Sam is looking at him right now makes Bucky feel like he might not need to. The way Sam is looking at him makes him want to fall forward – and he does. And Sam doesn’t stop him…

But Demeter does.

“Sam, there you are. I’ve been looking for you – _oh_.” She lifts her chin and looks at Bucky. “James. Good to see you.”

Bucky releases Sam and takes a step back. He bows slightly and says, “Jelene.”

Sam folds their hands together and looks down, seemingly embarrassed. “Demeter. Nice to see you here.”

Jelene shakes her head slightly. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you so we could discuss the upcoming harvest. It’ll be coming earlier than usual now that Apollo is off.”

Sam looks up then. “Yes. I’ve discussed it with Misty.”

“I’d appreciate it if you included me in the discussion next time,” she says, her tone just shy of irritated.

With a sigh, Sam says, “If you’d given me the chance I would have. Misty told me that you were looking for me and filled me in. I had plans to meet with you this weekend.”

She smiles, thin lipped. “Why don’t we discuss it now?”

Bucky can tell by the tone of Jelene’s voice she’s not really asking so much as explaining exactly what’s about to happen. He rests his hand on Sam’s arm and says, “I’ll talk to you later. It looks like you’ve got more important business to tend to, right now.”

Sam almost looks disappointed, but they rest their hand over Bucky’s. “Stop by the shop sometime next week if you’re free.”

“Of course,” Bucky says. This time leaving hurts a little bit, for whatever odd reason, and Bucky feels even colder than usual when Sam lets him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on tumblr [@zamnwilson](http://zamnwilson.tumblr.com) if you want to know more about this little universe I've dreamed up.


	4. Autumn Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, dunnnnn

“We’ve got a problem.” Misty appears out of nowhere, her form unfolding from the shadows of the underworld. A small pool of light falls at her feet, separating her from the inky blackness, and only then does she let the bottom of her robes fall from where they were gathered in her hands.

Natasha looks up from her phone. “What _kind_ of problem? Because if it’s about Bucky and Sam being oblivious then –”

Misty holds up a hand. “It’s not that. Sam is missing.”

“Excuse me?” Nat drops her legs off of the edge of her perch and jumps down to ground level. Her form warps at the edges, making her look three headed. She presses her thumb and forefinger to her forehead and sighs, eventually steadying in form again. “How long?”

“A week,” Misty returns, her voice dim. It’s obviously bad if she’s come to Natasha about a matter that technically doesn’t concern the court of Hades. She says as much. “You know I wouldn’t come to you if it wasn’t serious. They’re being evasive – more so than usual – and I have a feeling it’s because of something that happened on Olympus during Ororo’s induction.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and says, “Any number of things could have happened.”

“But there are only a finite number of things that could have happened between them and James. So, I’m going to ask this once, and I’m going to ask it as Misty, not as the Horae and not a member of Demeter’s court: Do you know what happened?”

~

Sam paces through a private collection of trees hidden from mortals, thinking, and rather angrily at that. A wave of dark green vines follows them as they walk, back and forth, back and forth, growing in mass with each turn. Finally, Sam stops in their tracks and lets out a small frustrated sound that almost seems tame given their current emotional state. And then a mature Sweet Gum tree bursts from the ground dramatically, its limbs clawing at the ground for purchase.

Once free, the tree shakes itself and a plethora of spiky seed pods go flying in every direction, as do its quickly reddening leaves. Any pods that make it into Sam’s path warp around them as if a shield were present. Sam looks at the tree with disdain and groans once they see the base of it begin to shimmer.

With the birth of the new tree a dryad appears, one of the Alseides. She stretches her arms upward and outward and yawns. After a moment to gather herself she looks at the tree, then the ground, and then over at Sam. She frowns. “Is fall upon us so soon?”

Sam closes their eyes and sighs. “Now is not the time, Karya.”

She scowls. “You’re the one who bore a tree in a sacred grove.”

“Yes, yes, I know. You tend to trees in the sacred grove. I am aware of the duties of the hamadryads; I outlined them.”

“Then don’t get upset with me for doing my job,” she says as she crosses her arms.

“I’m not upset with you,” Sam says, turning to face her.

She levels them with a look. “Well you sure aren’t happy.”

“What clued you in?” Sam drawls.

Karya shrugs and kicks one of the pods in front of her. It flies forward and rolls to a stop at Sam’s feet. “Call it a guess.” She takes a deep breath and follows the spiked pod. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s not something you need to concern yourself with, Karya.”

“I think we’ve known each other long enough for you to call me by my given name, Sam. It’s Monet, in case you forgot.” She raises her eyebrows at them. “And I don’t _need_ to concern myself with anything, but I can if you want me to.”

Sam shoots her a dry look. “I didn’t forget your name.”

“Then use it.”

“ _Monet_.”

She smiles like she knows she’s treading on thin ice. “That’s a start. Now, what’s wrong?”

Sam shakes their head and laughs. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Nothing made a tree, huh?” Monet sweeps her long black hair over her shoulder and turns to look at it once more. “You do know I can feel what the trees are thinking, right?”

“Duh.”

“Want me to translate what this one is thinking? Because she’s not having fun, I’ll say that much.”

Sam hangs their head downward. “It’s been a long week, alright. I’ll calm her down in a second.”

“I can handle her just fine – it’s my job – I’m asking about you right now.”

They look up at her with a lopsided grin. “If I tell you it’s going to put you in an awkward position.”

Monet snorts and then makes a face, “Well – you might as well tell me anyway, because if it has anything to do with Demeter the tree has already said what you were thinking.”

Sam looks up and groans. “Is it really that bad?”

“Oh yeah,” she says. She turns back to the tree and snaps her fingers to catch the tree’s attention. Once it looks at her she whispers something to it and a thread of gold appears around its trunk like a bow on a present. It brightens as the tree accepts her and then quickly fades away, as does the tree’s attitude.

Monet looks back at Sam again and takes a deep breath. “So, you and Demeter got into it again, huh?”

“You could say that,” Sam mutters as they find a place to sit. They choose the stump of a tree long gone and cross their legs on it, getting comfortable.

“What would _you_ say?”

“That she’s incredibly frustrating for someone who isn’t even my real mother.”

Monet smiles. “That’s Demeter for you. Practical and headstrong in mind, body, and soul.”

Sam looks up into the canopy of leaves above, leaning back on their hands as they bask in the light bleeding through the cracks. “Well she wasn’t being very practical when I spoke with her. She _was_ fairly headstrong though. If you call being a stubborn ass headstrong, that is.”

“What did you disagree on this time?” Monet asks amusedly.

A hollow laugh escapes Sam. “Everything.”

Monet huffs. “Care to narrow it down for me?”

“She’s upset that I don’t listen to her which, oddly enough, is the same issue I have with her. No matter what I say I can never get through to her. Or maybe I do and she just doesn’t care. I don’t know.”

Monet hums and leans forward. “I don’t agree with her most of the time, but I do know that she usually has everyone’s best interests at heart.”

Sam rolls their eyes and looks into the thick of the forest, where everything runs black. “If only that were true this time.”

“Then I think I think it’s your turn to decide,” she says. “Ball’s in your court. If you know she’s wrong, what are you gonna do about it?”

Sam sprawls out on the stump and sighs. “Something stupid, probably.”

~

“Unseen one.” A man of large stature appears in the middle of Bucky’s work room. “I come bearing news.”

Bucky looks up from the black-paged book in his left hand with a sigh, wishing he really _was_ unseen. “What is it, Charon? I’m in the middle of partitioning souls.”

“You have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Bucky repeats, voice flat. “Did Natasha put you up to something?” He sets the golden quill in his other hand down. “Clint?”

Charon shakes his head. “Their royal highness Persephone requests an audience with you.”

Bucky takes in a sharp breath and stands immediately. “Sam?”

“Yes, sire.”

Bucky waves a hand through the formality and moves around to the front of his desk. “Did they tell you why they’re _here_?”

Charon glances tiredly at Bucky, a dry look on his face. “No, but I’m sure you could ask them yourself seeing as they’re in the main hall waiting for you.”

“Fuck,” Bucky groans. “You led them all the way to the main hall?”

A heavy sigh falls from Charon’s mouth. “They insisted. _Repeatedly_ I might add.”

Bucky rubs his fingers over his temples, the bony ones an irritation more than anything. “Demeter is going to be furious.”

“It’s my understanding that Hecate gifted Sam with a special cloak for that very reason.”

Bucky’s eyes shoot up to look at Charon again. “What.”

Charon turns and heads toward the entrance of the room, over it, it would seem. “You’ll have to excuse me, there’s a river in need of a ferryman. Sam can fill you in on the rest, I’m certain.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a defeated breath. After a moment to collect himself, he grabs his jacket and heads toward the main hall. Just as he turns the last corner to get there he almost runs head first into Sam.

“Sam,” he says reflexively as he holds a hand out to keep them from colliding. “What are you _doing_ here?”

Sam lowers the hood on their cloak revealing their now short hair and smiles, though it’s smaller than usual. “It’s a long story.”

Bucky looks over his shoulder and then guides Sam into the nearest room, away from prying eyes and ears. “I’ve been looking for you all week. _Everyone_ has. The last place I expected you to pop up was **here**.”

“Sorry,” Sam says with a grimace. “I know people usually request permission before they come down here. I didn’t mean to intrude I just –”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Bucky interrupts. “I’m not – I’m not _upset_. It’s just, this is hell. Literally. When I say this was the last place I expected you, I mean it because it’s the last place I expect _anyone_ to willingly come to. Let alone the person in charge of plant growth.”

Sam shakes their head. “You make it sound like this is the worst place on Earth.”

Bucky laughs. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but it kind of _is_. No one likes it here. They’re comfortable here, sure, but it’s not exactly a number one vacation spot.”

“I think it’s nice,” Sam says plainly. “It’s quiet.”

Bucky’s stomach flutters and it’s only then that he realizes he still has his right hand on Sam’s shoulder. He quickly removes it and distances himself the slightest bit. “You can’t stay here long, Demeter has been looking for you – and aggressively at that.”

“I know,” Sam says, their face shuttering. “That’s why I’m here.”

Bucky’s brow furrows. “You’re – are you _hiding_ from her?”

“Hiding implies that I’m afraid of her, and I’m not,” Sam says as they unpin the button at the neck of their cloak so that they can take it off. “I’m avoiding her.”

“I’m one hundred percent sure that this is something I shouldn’t get in the middle of considering the fact that her and I are technically on equal footing as far as sway on Mt. Olympus is concerned. That being said, this wouldn’t have anything to do with what she said to me the other day, would it?”

Sam’s head snaps up abruptly and their eyes narrow. It’s mildly chilling. “What did she say?”

Bucky holds his breath for a moment. “On second thought, I don’t think it’s anything you want to hear.”

“ _Bucky_.”

With a sigh, Bucky says, “Fine. She forbade me from talking to you – in a manner of speaking.”

Roots break through the nearest wall, knocking a light from its place just as Sam lets out a frustrated sound. They turn away and shoo the root back into its place underground, wherever that _was_ , and then pick up the light. “Sorry, I – her and I have not been seeing eye to eye lately and it’s been wearing my nerves a little _thin_.”

Bucky looks at the hole in the wall, watching as the roots recede into it like tentacles, and then looks at Sam. “I see.”

Sam sets the light fixture down on a table nearby and then stands before Bucky with their cloak draped over their hands. Bucky can still see the way they fidget though. “On Mt. Olympus, at the banquet –”

“Yes?” Bucky asks, prompting Sam to continue. He has the faintest urge to reach out and steady their hands.

“When we danced, did you – did you feel anything?” Sam asks on a shaky breath. It’s the first time Bucky has seen them look anything close to nervous. He thinks he understands the feeling though.

“Like what?”

Sam frowns. “I’m asking _you._ ”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “What do you want me to say, Sam? That I enjoyed it? That I wanted to kiss you just before Demeter got there? Because none of that really matters now if Demeter wants me to pretend that you don’t exist.”

Sam’s eyebrows fall into a crinkled line. “You’d really listen to her?”

“ _No_. I’d listen to myself and do what’s best.”

“Best for who?” Sam asks frustratedly.

Bucky turns away and heads toward the door. “The best for _you_ so that you can have some peace of mind whenever you and Demeter are within twenty feet of each other.”

“She has nothing to do with this,” Sam says as they follow.

“She has _everything_ to do with it,” Bucky says, walking toward the river Styx.

Sam grabs his left hand, and oddly enough they don’t shy away. “If she hadn’t shown up when she did, would you have kissed me?”

“Yes,” Bucky answers automatically, though it’s much more emphatically said in his head.

“Then what’s stopping you right now?”

“The setting, the timing, the fact that I haven’t asked you on a date, how you deserve better,” Bucky hisses, his voice quieting as someone passes them in the hall. “The list goes on – and I mean _on_. I could probably reach the mid-world with this list.”

Sam rolls their eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Sam, why are you here?” Bucky asks tiredly. “Why are you avoiding Demeter, and why did you choose here to do it?”

“Because I feel safe with you.”

Bucky looks over both his shoulders and then back at Sam. “Me?”

“Who else would I be talking to down here?” Sam asks, incredulous.

“Someone who could _actually_ protect you.”

“I didn’t say I wanted someone to protect me. I said I feel _safe_ , and to me that means comfortable. You’re easy to be around.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and holds it for a solid twenty seconds. He releases it all in one go and then says, “You know, you’re probably the first person who’s ever said that.”

“That’s because I can see through your bullshit,” Sam says impatiently. “Now, if you’re done deflecting and being a major pain in my ass I’d love to get to the real reason I came down here.”

“You’re the one beating around the bush,” Bucky grumbles. “You could’ve just started with whatever it was and avoided this whole conversation.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to know how you felt before I threw myself out there. Sue me,” Sam huffs as they walk back towards the main hall.

“Where are you going?”

“Not to the ferry, that’s for sure.”

Bucky looks at one of the paintings on the wall as he follows, as if it can help him. It can’t. When he catches up to Sam he guides them to his office and then shuts the door. “Spill.”

“Go on a date with me.”

“Uh – wanna run that by me one more time?”

Sam sets their cloak down on a chair and stands across from Bucky, close enough that Bucky can feel the warmth radiating off of them. “You’re obviously never going to ask because you keep talking yourself out of it, so I’m asking.”

“Really? Because that didn’t seem like a question,” Bucky says amusedly.

“If I ask you’ll say something like, ‘Demeter forbade it,’ or ‘I’m not right for you.’”

Bucky scowls. “In my defense, those are both completely valid reasons.”

“You don’t get to decide what’s right for me,” Sam says, short, sweet, and to the point. “You get to decide what’s right for you, and I get to decide what’s right for me.” They let out a lengthy sigh. “What do _you_ want to do?”

“Take a nap,” Bucky mutters under his breath.

Sam bats his arm with the back of their hand. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Don’t bullshit me, I already told you that you can’t. Be honest. Do you want to go out with me - to _date_ me – or no?”

“Of course I do,” Bucky admits.

Sam straightens out, standing tall. “Then pretend Demeter never said anything to you, and I’ll do the same.”

“You’re asking for trouble, I hope you know that,” Bucky says, though he steps forward at Sam’s prompting anyway.

Sam looks up at him, a smirk coloring their features, knowing they’ve won this round. “Absolutely.” They grab the edges of his jacket and pull him in gently. Their lips are mere inches apart when they say, “Ask me out.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. He shouldn’t. He should walk away, keep Sam safe, and stay on Demeter’s good side. But – that’s not what he does, and he’s glad he doesn’t. “Sam, will you go out with me?”

Sam nods once, their eyes skipping to Bucky’s mouth. “I’d love to.”

Bucky barely has time to smile before Sam pulls him forward that last inch, kissing him soundly. Predictably, Bucky melts right into it, that same warm feeling from the banquet filling his core.

Sam’s lips are soft, and they smell like honey and vanilla. This close, Bucky can feel the symphonic hum of their heart and the way it skips a beat when he kisses back. He wonders if Sam can hear the hollow beat of his, too.

After a moment Bucky pulls away, much to his own dismay, and when he speaks his voice sounds foreign and misused. “This doesn’t change the fact that you can’t stay here.”

He rubs the thumb of his right hand over Sam’s cheek and frowns. “Misty was looking for you the other day, and now Natasha is too. If you’re intent on avoiding Demeter you can’t do it here.”

Sam rests their hand over Bucky’s and sighs. “Trust me, I know. I’m not planning on avoiding her much longer, I just need a little time to level out. If I don’t I might accidentally create a forest.”

Bucky looks up abruptly, honing in on a disruption in the field to one of the entrances, an odd tinny sound that pulls his attention from Sam. “Put your cloak back on.”

“What?”

“Cloak. On. Now,” he says. “Someone’s coming.” He shoos Sam into the space beneath his desk just as the door to his office opens, and he’s not at all surprised by what he sees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm 2 for 2 today! If you enjoy this fic and you want another one where Sam is anything but human, you should head over to my other fic I updated today [Waiting in the Wings.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8915488/chapters/20422813) I won't spoil what it's about though, so you'll have to go see.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this chapter leave me a comment and let me know what you liked so I can keep it up. If you're not feeling up to being coherent, feel free to leave a string of unintelligible words and phrases <3


	5. In Bloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It comes to an end! I hope you guys enjoy this last chapter of In Bloom. I'm absolutely over the moon with how much positive feedback you've given me here so I really hope I did it justice with this little finale.
> 
> I'm probably going to come back to this and add a little prequel to establish some facts about this universe, but it's behind some other things on my list so stay tuned.
> 
> Thank you again for all your support and love. Enjoy<3

“ _You_ are in for a world of shit,” Natasha says as she steps into the room, she closes the door behind her abruptly as soon as she’s inside. “I’m dating the personification of inevitability so when I say that, I need you to know I mean it literally and not just because you lied to me.”

Bucky leans against the front of his desk and crosses his arms, tiredly raising an eyebrow as he does. “What exactly did I lie about?”

“Sam.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific, Nat.”

“You know where they are, I know you do.” Natasha comes closer and narrows her eyes. Bucky blinks and suddenly she’s split into her three forms: one blonde, one with jet black hair, and the other with Natasha’s resting red.

One says, “There’s upset in the other courts. Demeter’s especially.”

Another hums thoughtfully while tapping her chin. “Why would that be?”

The last says, “Oh, I know. Maybe it’s because everything is _dying_.”

“This is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Bucky asks before pushing himself off the desk. “Sam is their own person, and centuries old I might add. What they do in their spare time is their business. Besides, they’ve hardly been gone two weeks.”

The three fates circle around Bucky. Clotho, the blonde one, says, “Have you forgotten how time passes up there?”

Atropos, the one who decides when a mortal life has come to an end, tucks her black hair behind her ear. “It’s been almost three months in the mid-world.”

Lachesis, the measurer of threads and time who most resembles Natasha’s resting form, tilts her head, almost mockingly. “Care to take a guess how that’s working out for them?”

Clotho spins a shimmering gold thread and Lachesis takes a section of it between her two hands and holds it up. “Imagine this as being the life force of all plants and crops on earth.” She lets it dangle helplessly and Atropos wordlessly cuts it in half.

The three of them fold back into one body and Natasha bores holes into Bucky with her eyes. They glow an unearthly crimson, almost like molten lava. “Where are they?”

“What makes you think I know?” Bucky asks. He feels his patience wearing thin which isn’t usually a problem he has with Natasha, at least not under serious circumstances such as this one. He begins to walk around her the same way she had circled around him like a pack of hyenas and says, “I’ve been looking for them too, have I not?”

“Would you stop being so difficult.” Natasha splits again so that all three of her can keep an eye on Bucky, though she’s still mostly one form. “I’m on _your_ side. I’m a member of your court, remember?”

“And your sister is a member of Demeter’s.”

She blinks as if surprised and her form warps at the edges. “Do you question my loyalty?”

Bucky stops and holds up his left hand, snapping his fingers as he does. The sound that follows is deafening and sharp, and it causes Nat to collapse into a single form again. “Your loyalty has never been an issue. Your _motives_ have. I don’t want to put you in a position where I have to find out what choice you’ll make. And even if I _did_ want to, this isn’t my decision to make. It’s theirs.” He heads toward the door to his office and opens it. “Now if you’re finished, I have work to do.”

“I’m not,” Natasha growls, stepping closer.

“I think you are,” Bucky says coldly. He holds a hand out the door to point the way.

Natasha’s face morphs from something pinched and angry to this almost dead look. Something blank. It’s not that quiet tempered fury that results from festering anger, but upset maybe. Hurt? Whatever the case, the look isn’t there long before she pulls something out of her jacket pocket and shoves it into Bucky’s chest. “You’re wanted on Mt. Olympus, _highness_.” She takes one more look at him before she leaves and says, “I was trying to warn you, _and_ them, but you assumed I’d fold and take the side of another court when even the Horae aren’t on Demeter’s side.”

As her hand falls away Bucky grabs the shimmering piece of parchment and says, “It’s not my choice to make Natasha; you can’t be upset that I won’t tell you what’s not my business to tell.”

“I’m not.” She angrily throws the words over her shoulder as she walks away, not even bothering to turn around. “I’m upset you have so little trust in me after almost six centuries.”

Bucky lets out a hollow groan and rolls his eyes. This is a problem he’ll have to deal with later; he doesn’t have the time for it right now. Both because it isn’t the _right_ time and because he’s been summoned to Olympus, which can only mean one thing. Nothing good.

As soon as Bucky’s shut the door to his office again Sam unfolds themself from beneath the desk and sits down in Bucky’s great chair. They clasp their hands together on the desk and frown. “That could’ve gone better.” At Bucky’s dry look Sam says, rather apologetically, “I appreciate you defending me and my choices, but if I had known that was going to happen I would’ve told you I already spoke to Misty.”

Bucky slowly closes his eyes and lets out a frustrated breath. _Great_. If that’s the case then Bucky knows that Misty and Nat would’ve spoken too, i.e. Misty would’ve told Natasha what Sam’s intentions were for the sake of ending what has quickly become a feud of sorts.

“It’s fine,” Bucky eventually says. “I’ll deal with it later. She might be upset with me, but I know she understands.”

Sam nods and stands, still shrouded by their cloak. They gesture at the golden piece of paper in his hands. “What’s it say?”

Bucky looks down at it, unravels the red thread around it, and immediately rolls his eyes. “It’s a summons from Demeter herself stating, and I quote, ‘a need to discuss the current state of affairs on the mid-world due to the recent disappearance of Persephone.’”

Sam rolls their eyes. “Give me that for a second, would you?” As soon as Bucky hands it over Sam says, “I’m dealing with this. You go catch up with Natasha,” and heads for the door.

“Uh,” Bucky follows as Sam glides toward Styx. “I thought the whole point of you coming here was to avoid Jelene.”

“I changed my mind,” Sam says definitively. “I’ve skirted around the truth for too long with her.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Wait.” Bucky gently takes Sam’s hand into his, effectively stopping them. “I can handle this myself. You want to take time to yourself; take it. If this is about how I reacted when she told me t–” He pauses and lets out a short sigh. “I’m not afraid to tell her how I feel. That was never the issue. The issue was making sure you were happy.”

Sam’s resolve seems to waver but their hand tightens around Bucky’s. “We could always go together.”

A small smile touches Bucky’s lips. “While I’d agree any other day, I have a feeling I know how much you want a break from this part of your life right now.”

“Very much,” Sam answers with a weary sigh.

Bucky hesitates for a split second and then leans forward to kiss Sam on the cheek – because apparently he can now – which is… interestingly freeing. “Go. I’m a big kid, I think I can handle Jelene by now.”

Sam presses their forehead against his and laughs. “Don’t be so sure of yourself.”

“I’m not,” Bucky says. He kisses Sam one more time then says, “But I am sure about _you_.” With that he takes his leave, his staff materializing in his left hand just before he opens a portal to Olympus.

“Be careful,” Sam says as they watch him. “Don’t let her talk you out of anything.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. “I won’t.”

As it turns out, that’s the least of Bucky’s concerns. On Olympus, the scene that Bucky happens upon is – less than ideal. If it were something capable of being put into words (which it isn’t), the only thing Bucky could liken it to would be if a china shop attached to a Lego store were destroyed by a tornado. It’s disastrous. But it’s not just the main hall on Olympus that’s trashed, it extends to other portions of the summit too. The halls and columns, the ceilings - which technically don’t even exist - even the tapestries have been swallowed by leaves and vines that have since decayed. It’s like looking at a panic attack.

Eventually Bucky finds Demeter sitting at the foot of the dais of three by herself. The whirlwind of dead plants leads right to her, and there’s an unfortunately large pile at her feet. She absently picks at the petals of one of the withered gerbera daisies and murmurs something to herself. Jelene knows Bucky is there, he can tell, but she doesn’t look up. All she says is, “I’ve made a mistake.”

Bucky lets out a hollow sigh. “Is that what you called me here to speak about?”

She looks up with a rueful smile on her face. “No.”

“Then?”

Jelene sighs. “Where are they?”

Ah, this again. Bucky takes a deep breath and as he lets it out he says, “What makes you think I know?”

She rolls her eyes and lets out a dry laugh. “I might not be Sam’s actual mother, but I was **_a_** mother before all of _this_ ,” she gestures vaguely at the grand hall. “I know what my children would’ve done.”

Jelene twirls the stem of the former flower in between her fingers, eventually letting it fall to the floor. “I’m not sure I get it, though.”

Bucky laughs. “What’s to get?”

“How’d you do it?”

“ _What_?”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Get them to fall in love with you. What did you do? You never speak to anyone on Olympus, and when you did you had to pick the one person that brings life to all of the dark spaces on Earth.”

That makes Bucky’s skin crawl, more with anger than discomfort. “You say that as if I’ve taken something that wasn’t mine – something that belonged to _you_. Sam’s favor isn’t an object of possession.”

“I’m not talking about their favor – I’m talking about their _power_.”

“What about it?” Bucky asks, incredulous.

“Is that all you want them for?”

Bucky jabs his staff into the floor and an unseen force pushes all of the dead flowers from the space around him, leaving a circle of untouched marble. Barren. “The fact that you would even insinuate that –”

She shakes her head and stands, brushing her hands on her gown as she does. “That’s not – I need to know if you love them for them or if you just need them to brighten up Hades.”

Bucky looks away. “I would never use Sam for their gifts. Ever.”

“I didn’t think so,” Jelene answers tiredly. “But I needed to hear it. I needed a reason to get you to speak to me.”

“You could have just asked,” Bucky says.

She rolls her eyes, though not in a show of irritation. “Please, like you’d willingly speak to me after what I said to you. To _them_.”

“I don’t know what you said to them, I only know what you said to me. I wouldn’t be here at all if you upset me _that_ much.” He twists his staff in his skeletal hand. “Besides, I agreed with you.”

Jelene looks up abruptly. “ _What_?”

Bucky shrugs. “I was already worried I’d be a bad influence on them. We’re polar opposites. They’re all things bright and lovely, and I – I have the pits of hell named after me.” He laughs. “Trust me, anything you’ve said or thought, I’ve probably thought something ten times as harsh.”

She groans and looks upward. “Fuck.”

Bucky laughs again, softer this time. “Yeah.”

“If I could ask anything of you it would be to get them back to Earth. I don’t expect them to forgive me any time soon, I just – the world needs them. It’s not me or my concern for the Harvest. The flora on earth is dying in places where it should be flourishing. Their presence makes a difference.”

“I think that’s something you’d have to speak with them about.”

Jelene’s jaw tightens. “They won’t speak with me.”

Bucky makes a face, as if to say he knows and exactly why. “Give them time.”

“We don’t have any,” Jelene snaps. “I’d love to pretend that I could do what they do while they’re mad at me, but I _can’t_. There’s a reason Persephone exists and it’s because they do something I don’t – _can’t_. They’re the reason flowers bloom; the nymphs can’t do it without them.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. “Fine. But don’t expect me to try and convince them of anything. Including speaking to you.”

Jelene waves her hand at him in dismissal. “My expectations aren’t exactly high right now. I made a judgement error and it cost me the help of the most important member of my court.” She sighs. “I don’t need them to speak to me, but I _do_ need them to do their job. I don’t want the nymphs to feel like they’re being punished for something I did.”

There’s a surprising amount of blame accepted then that Bucky didn’t expect her to take. He’s glad their conversation was just that – a conversation and not an argument – but at the same time he feels apprehensive about it. Still, he nods wordlessly and turns toward the main hall, desperate to leave this awkward situation.

Before he can get too far he hears Jelene say, “James?” He looks back just as she says, “For what it’s worth, I never assumed you would taint them. I was more concerned that you would keep them all to yourself. They’re just one of those people.”

“I like to think I have more self-control than that.”

She lets out an amused huff and looks down. “I’m sure you do. I’m sorry.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Don’t be. Like I said, it’s not me you upset.”

Jelene lets out a heavy sigh. “Believe me, I know.”

As Bucky turns back towards the entrance –

 

 

“Uncle _Steeeeeeeve_ , you said you’d get to the part where they went on their date today!” Cora huffs. She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows at him. “This is taking for **ever**.”

Steve, better known to some as Hercules, leans forward and places his arms on his legs to brace himself. “ _You_ said you wanted to know how they met. Technically this is all extra.”

She huffs and flops backward onto the grass, letting her arms splay outward as she does. White daisies grow around one hand and asphodel grows around the other. “ _Yeah_ , but I wanna know how they fell in loooove.”

Steve laughs. “Why don’t you just ask them, then; they’re your parents.”

Cora sits back up and looks at him. She’s got one brown eye and one blue eye and the blue one slices right through him while the brown one pulls him in. She’s got Sam’s “look” down to a science at the ripe old age of eight. “Be _cause_ ,” she says, as if this is something that should be obvious. “They always get that goopy love-look on their faces and they never finish the story!”

Steve laughs. “Sounds about right.” He scoots off of the felled tree he was sitting on and sits on the floor of the hidden grove, across from Cora. “Alright, ask me what you wanna know.”

“How did they fall in love? What happened to the plants on the mid-world? How’d they get _me_?”

“Your dad is gonna be here any minute, so why don’t you pick the question you want to know the answer to the most,” Steve says as he picks a leaf out of her abundance of curls.

“Where’d I come from?”

Steve smiles gently. “Their love.”

Cora rolls her eyes and lets out a groan. “That’s what _everyone_ says. That’s why I want to know how they fell in love!”

“They fell in love a _loooong_ time ago, peapod. You can’t really answer a question like why someone fell in love if you’re not the person in love, but if I had to guess –”

She leans in like she might finally get her answer, and Steve does too. He opens his mouth, takes a deep breath and thennnnn – he scoops her into his arms and says, “Oh, looks like time’s up. Better ask your dad.”

“Not again!” She falls limp in his arms as punishment and when they get close enough to Bucky she says, “Uncle Steve is the _worst_.”

Bucky laughs and takes her hand once she’s back on the ground. “What’d he do this time?”

“Nothing,” she mutters, scrunching her face.

Bucky looks back up at Steve and raises an eyebrow. “She wants to know where she came from, and when you and Sam fell in love.”

“This again, huh?” Bucky squats before her so they’re at eye-level and says, “I can’t tell you _exactly_ where you came from because that’s a little bit more complicated and Nona would be the better one to ask, but I can tell you about when we fell in love.”

“I don’t want to know _when_ , I want to know _how_.”

Bucky presses his lips together in thought for a moment. “How do you know the sun is in space?”

“Because you told me, duh.”

Bucky flicks her ear. “Yeah, but how do you _know_? You’ve never been in space. How do you know it’s really out there?”

Cora huffs. “I don’t know, I just _know_.”

“Exactly,” Bucky says as he hoists her up and onto his hip. “Nona is special. I can’t tell you _how_ I fell in love with them; I just knew. I could feel it, just like you can feel the life of all the trees in this grove or all of the shades in the asphodel meadows.”

Cora narrows her eyes, as if deciding whether or not this is an acceptable answer. Eventually she gives up and lets out a huff before resting her head on his shoulder. Bucky shrugs in an attempt to get her to look at him. He waves Steve off as he gestures that he’s leaving and says, “What’s wrong, peapod?”

Her voice is smothered by the fabric of his coat. Bucky laughs and rubs a hand up and down her back as he walks back toward the portal to the mid-world. “You know I can’t hear you when you hide in my hair, Cor.”

She turns her head and says, sorely, “Percy said he came out of his mom’s _belly_ , and Athena came out of Zeus’ head, but I didn’t come from you or Nona. I came out of the ground.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“The other kids think so,” she grumbles.

“The other kids are also human and don’t know you can talk to dead animals.”

Cora groans. “I wish I came out of Nona’s heart or something.”

“You did,” Bucky says as he merges with the mid-world and finds himself in the back of Sam’s shop. “Uncle Steve told you that’s where you came from.”

“Not really though,” Cora intones.

Bucky sets her down and motions for her to follow him. “See this pot?”

She looks up at him and makes a face. “Yeah.”

“What’s in it?”

“Dirt,” she says, her voice devoid of any emotion.

“Okay, and what’s gonna come out of it?”

“I don’t _know_. A flower?”

“And where did that flower come from?”

Cora huffs. “The dirt.”

Bucky makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Wrong. It came out of a seed.”

“So?”

“ _So_ , that’s exactly what happened with you.”

“I’m a flower?” Cora asks, her voice warping in confusion.

Sam walks in, wiping their hands on a towel. Bucky nods to say hello, smiles, and turns back to Cora. “Sort of. Nona was tending to the garden downstairs, and because they put their love into everything they do, one of the flowers gave us you.”

Sam tugs on one of her curls and watches it spring back into place, surprising her. “You’re my little daffodil. Best thing I ever made.”

Cora smiles and wraps her arms around Sam’s waist. “Hi Nona.”

“Hi baby,” Sam says as they pick her up. “How was school.”

“Boys are dumb,” she mutters as she wraps her hands around their neck.

Sam looks at Bucky and flashes him a teasing smile. “Don’t I know it.”

**Eight Years Ago…**

Bucky stands outside of their house staring at the garden Sam created out front. It’s decoration more than anything, but something about it puts Bucky at ease when Sam is away. In some ways, it’s like a physical manifestation of their love. Bucky let Sam in, and Sam made him a better person – or made him want to be a better person. That’s kind of what the flowers represent. The brightening of Bucky’s life, how even something as beautiful as flowers can grow in a place that seems as desolate as hell.

And they really do grow. Some of the flowers are massive, far larger than they’d be on the mid-world. Especially this chrysanthemum that sprung up by their door. Sam’s been oddly drawn to it lately, says they can feel something special about it. Bucky usually doesn’t understand that feeling since plants aren’t his field of specialty, but there’s something about this one that’s different. Even he can feel it. It’s something warm and hopeful, like the feeling Bucky got when everything on Olympus _finally_ got sorted out. Something like peace.

Bucky smiles and strokes one of the outside petals. “Glad you’re here.” And for the first time a flower other than the asphodel or foxglove leans back into his touch, as if to say, “ _Hello_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank my followers on my side blog for giving me all sorts of neat ideas to put in here like Bucky's skeletal arm, the birds in Sam's shop, and a bunch of other cute little things that made this universe as fun as it's been.
> 
> Please feel free to comment on what you liked (or didn't), and tell me what you wanna know more about for the prequel!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave feedback. I love hearing from you guys, especially about this fic!


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